By the golden shores of Asgard, one summer afternoon
by Valxyri
Summary: This was no battlefield. It was Asgard, a well tended beach where divine beings could lie in the sun, and bout in the sand dunes and frolic in the surf. A peaceful, sunny retreat. And Thor had lost a lot of blood. [Thor whump is my favorite] [young thor] [kid loki] [graphic depictions of violence]


chapter one, what happened on the beach

"That's a lot of blood." Thor heard someone whisper, a distant echo beyond the symphonic ringing in his ears, very close, he was very close. Someone who's voice shouldn't have been shaking with fear. The ground was wet against his cheek, and a violent, intrusive light filled his eyes, a pale field streaked with the gold in his illuminated hair.

A woman was screaming, very far away. The sound of her panicked sobs echoed in Thor's ears. There were voices, crowded forests of legs, anxious whispers. He felt himself choking involuntarily on sand which had settled on his eyelids and in his beard. He could see one of his hands silhouetted against the gleaming, shifting light on the ocean.

"Help me lift the body!" there was a rustle of grabbing hands and something heavy was dragged from where it had fallen across Thor's shoulders.

"He isn't moving." Odin dropped to his knees heavily beside his son's head.

"Thor, can you hear me?" his father's voice was thin through the constant pitched note in his ears. "if you can hear me I need you to respond!" there was sudden pressure against his throat and a rolling spasm of pain shook his body.

Thor squeezed his eyes shut, the skin sticking to itself when it wrinkled. The ground felt to be pitching and shifting under him. Nauseous with pain, he would not open his mouth to speak, but squeezed his hand around whatever was holding it.

Distant voices called to one another through the ringing haze. Someone was comforting the screaming woman. Feet clustered in close to catch a glimpse of what had caused the bang.

"What happened?" Thor mouthed weakly, eyes still shut tight.

"I'm not sure." The Allfather glanced around nervously, reaching out a commanding hand to one of the Valkyries who had followed him. "Get me something to stop the bleeding."

"by the ash…"

"it went clean through him."

"somebody catch the body before the current drags it down!"

_Of course,_ thought the god of thunder, _the Vanir boy… _he tried to move but sudden, gripping pain flashed through the side of his head and down his neck. Thor heard himself whimper in agony.

"Shhh," Odin's hand was on his shoulder, "youre all right, it's all right, don't try to move." But the throbbing, white hot wall of shock did not abate and Thor felt himself choking on blood and bile. He gagged into the sand and the world seemed to lens and fade to blackness.

"Thor!"

This was no battlefield. It was Asgard, a well tended beach where divine beings could lie in the sun, and bout in the sand dunes and frolic in the surf. A peaceful, sunny retreat. And Thor had lost a lot of blood.

The Vanir prince had been a fool to challenge him. With his stolen Jotun axe and his youthful bravado. Thor would never have intentionally hurt the boy, he only wanted to teach him a lesson about hubris. And now his mother was screaming, as if her very soul had been ripped out, looking upon his tattered remains, his legs which had fallen clumsily over the thunder god's neck lay abandoned in the sand, seeping red. His dismembered head and shoulder were lulling in the pink stained surf.

Thor blinked the red haze out of his eyes looking blearily up at the Allfather, "Dad?" he whispered, someone was holding his hand.

"You're going to be fine. The healers are coming."

Freyja pushed her way through the crowd looking fierce and blonde and deeply troubled.

"What happened, I didn't see what happened?" She demanded, taking in the scene. Her eyes stopped on the face of the young Vanir prince, his body torn in half and reduced to a pulpy, smear of red in the sand. "oh." she whispered.

Thor was lying, face downwards on the ground, something's gravity was holding on to his body, scraping the rough, wet rocks into his exposed flesh. Feet, Thor could see feet, and the soft, translucent weave of sunlight through his father's garment.

"Help me!" Odin was barking at her, fierce as a wolf when angered.

"What in Hel was on that axe?" she shook her head.

"Runes." Thor felt a hand grab his shoulder and roll him onto his back, which is when the pain really hit. His body jerked and he groaned wetly.

"Runes can do this?" she whispered, staring in horror at the extent of the injury. Thor's eyelids fluttered, blue contrasting horribly with red.

"Aye, get Eir!" Odin barked into the flock of worried Valkyries who had followed his desperate sprint to where Thor lay dying, one hand he laid on his son's knee to still the convulsions of agony. "I think it's, it's an old Jotun festering charm, fatal, if written correctly." His one bright eye flashed up at her then back to his son.

"Can you lift it?"Freyja asked, watching one of her sisters launch into the air.

"I don't know." The Allfather shook his head, using his free hand to hold Thor's wrists crossed at his chest, "I didn't read the signs… the Vanir prince, he was, ah…" Odin tilted his head back and shook sweaty grey hair from his face, "he was standing on my blind side." The old god's face was blank with shock, and the grisly familiarity of war, but the desperate horror and the fear of a father was just under the surface. He was screaming inside, just like the Vanir woman. Like jutting rocks that ripple the surface of the lake. Thor's eyes began to slide shut and Odin felt himself begin to panic deep inside.

"Stay awake, now." He cradled Thor's broken skull, pressing the fabric into the wounds that ran from his temple to his shoulder, tattering skin and godflesh like pork belly, riddled with shrapnel of what used to be the accursed Jotun axe.

"Come on Thor." The young god's skin had gone a troubling shade of exsanguinated ash, his blue eyes were open a slit, dilated and blind. Thor's fingers twitched automatically, empty and slack in the sea of shimmering red. "come on!"

No response.

"Dad?" Odin looked up, then back at Loki, shock freezing his features into a mask of ice. A Valkyrie was holding the boy back. Loki was nude, pale as a fish with black hair stuck to his cheeks, he had been swimming in the ocean. He pushed past Brunhilde and Swan's hands eager to lay eyes on his brother.

"No, Loki!" Odin pulled his garment in front of Thor's bloodied face, but it was too late.

"THOR!" Loki screamed, catching a glimpse of his brother's bloody body, he lunged forward but was scooped of his feet by the unheeded fertility goddess. She dragged the nude boy away, even as he screamed and sobbed out his brother's name.

But nobody was watching, because at that moment , Thor's body started to shake and convulse. He groaned and his breath came in desperate little gasps.

Odin covered his good eye with one hand, the other tightly gripping his son's singed, bloodied tunic. _Trauma induced seizure_ he told himself,_ just wait it out, wait It out._

When he finally stilled the Allfather leaned in to examine the wound, blood welled from a deep fissure across Thor's temple, matting in his hair and spilling from his nostrils. Odin sighed in disappointment as he recognized the shining edge of metal buried deep in the cut. It radiated black magic as if it was cherry hot, poisoning his son's body. The Allfather grimaced as he clutched the cursed edge of shining steel and pulled it slowly free.

"Don't!" Eir appeared from the crowd, "leave the shrapnel in place."

"The metal's cursed with ice runes!" He informed her, "It's killing him."

"Then let me do it." Eir insisted.

"No!" he shook his head emphatically holding up one blood stained hand, "youre going to need your dexterity." Tiny blisters had erupted on the flats of the Allfather's fingers, wherever they had touched the cursed metal.

"Don't…" she said, even as he seized the chip of steel and in one deft motion, freed it from where it was lodged in Thor's skull. The crisp stink of charred flesh filled the air. Odin threw the offending shard into the sand, making no sign of discomfort but holding his charred red fingers carefully apart.

Eir dropped beside him, carefully examining the wound and holding absorbent bandages against Thor's skull. She pulled back his eyelids and pressed probing fingers into his neck. His breath came in shallow, erratic rasps.

"He's crashing." She announced in a near whisper.

"Give me your knife…" Odin said looking grey, eye unfocused, fixed about a foot away from the ground, "wait, this is better," he grabbed the shard of steel he had tossed away, holding it gingerly.

"What are you doing?" she looked up from where she was listening for breath sounds, there was the faintest edge of worry in her voice.

"Whoever made this weapon thinks they know Ice magic," his voice was perfectly calm as he used the razor sharp edge to dig a red trench into his soft, white, palm, "Blood magic is stronger."

"Stop." Eir leveled her gaze at him. "It's too late."

"I can't let _her_ take another one," his voice was shaking, two more lines, to make a simple rune in red. He dropped the blade and squeezed shut his fingers, letting the blood well in the cracks in his fist, "can I?" he looked at her, desperately sad, eye brimming with magic.

"Do what you must." She touched one of his shoulders.

"This is really going to hurt."

He pressed his palm against Thor's chest. It was like a bolt of lightning seared down out of the sky. Thor's back arched, Eir and Odin were thrown aside, as well as all those gathered, there was a deep THRUMM of electricity, and then silence.


End file.
